


drunken minds, with sober thoughts.

by judesrivers



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bad arguments, Beatle fans run twitter, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, John does not to consent to Mcevans, M/M, Mal's in love, Mildly Dubious Consent, Modern AU, Only because I'm an asshole, Open ended endings, Paul's just vibing, Size Difference, Therapy, mild violence?, so ao3 messed it up lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judesrivers/pseuds/judesrivers
Summary: After a chaotic Halloween night that was unspoken between the band. Mal finds himself infatuated with Paul, and John has a hunch on it. It is safe to say that he doesn't like it.It's also safe to say that Mal is not the only one in the wrong.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	drunken minds, with sober thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CelesteFitzgerald](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteFitzgerald/gifts), [lennonsprincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennonsprincess/gifts), [maccahazza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maccahazza/gifts).



> wow... i had to repost this lololololol  
> anyways if u clicked on this ily!! drink water!

_Tap, tap, tap._

Vincent put his pen down for what he thought would be a short minute, impatiently drawing the right side of his suit sleeve up to check the time on his watch so that he would not have to pull his phone out to check it there. That would just get him in a embarrassing amount of trouble with his boss, and he would most likely get his license suspended for neglecting a client. However he had a pregnant wife at home, and two rambunctious kids that can't keep their hands off of rocks, can't keep rocks out of business building windows, and certainly can't keep their father out of lawsuits because of the rocks and business windows.

"Shit has just been weird lately." Mal had complained in a shaky voice, thick brows pinched and eyes squinted up at the ceiling since his savior clear glasses were off, laying stiffly on the 'confession seat' that had been placed all the way to the left corner - a portrait of King George lll on the wall above the seat - of the grey room, he was facing the therapist. "Remember that bloke I told you about? Paul?"

"Yes." Vincent timidly replied, tearing his glare from the slow ticking watch and back over at Mal, grasping at the pen to tap it against the side of his 'keeping tabs' journal, something that he actually didn't write tabs in, more so drew Mal and etched quotation marks of his problems aside his head. "You've been in a crisis about him for a month now?"

"Since Halloween, yes. I find him - uncomfortably attractive." Mal's cheeks flushed at the confession, and soon enough he was twiddling his thumbs with a small, panicked smile on his face whilst thinking about Paul.

"Okay, so what's stopping you from telling him about your feelings?" Vincent asked, eyes narrowing back at his watch for a brief second, then he found himself retracing his glare back up at Mal with a forming scowl on his face that he hoped the client wouldn't notice.

Sitting up in the blasted 'confession seat,' Mal's panicked, but meek smile churned into a guilty pout, digesting that question uneasily as if it was some broccoli offered to a child.

"Well, he's in a relationship already. It's a bit chaotic though, especially lately."

\--

"You've made us late by making Neil stop by a fucking _McDonalds_." George had cooly began his obstructive argument, becoming a growing volcanic eruption when he tightened the grip on the clutch of his busted instrument. "And you've fucking wrecked my guitar!"

Staring over at George, removing the unlit cigarette from between his thin lips, John had slowly trekked over and leant down to skim his eyes diligently over the guitar. Yeah, it looks like shit. It's not his fault John lost his balance after chasing one of the staff around after they trimmed one side of his hair too short because they were too busy watching some ASMR video. "I don't see how that's my problem. Isn't that right princess?" John eventually said with maliciousness, looking over his shoulder to scrutinize Paul who was plopping another purple grape inside of his parted mouth, propped up on some steady speaker that was high enough for him to injure himself if he ever fell off of it unknowingly, right now he was too lost in his own world.

Then he almost choked on his grape when he had finally noticed the cursed nickname that doomed his much more youthful days, soon enough he was baseball pitching another grape directly at John with a scowl on his face.

"He doesn't like that. You're his boyfriend, you should know that." Richard, who was sick and slumping against his drum set, had unhappily said.

Paul made a noise in agreement, staring over at John with lowered eyes as he chewed on his grape. "Mhm."

John's eye twitched at Ringo who only threw his hands up in defense, and then he huffed in annoyance, moving away from an angry George Harrison who'd only grew more irritated by each grueling second that past by for him when he noticed that no one was paying attention to his dead guitar. "Now," John began, standing in front of Paul. "Why'd you have to go and do all that? What if that shit had hit me in the eye? Then what?"

Swallowing the grape, and reaching for another one, he murmured an irritated: "I wouldn't care, get the hell away from me." As a response, they had this fucking 'princess' talk several times in their relationship, but it seemed as if John didn't find Paul's feelings to it important enough.

"Oh-ho-ho." John did his shocked Santa laugh, half expecting for Paul to laugh with him. It didn't work. "Hey, c'mon." He tried with a softer voice, noticing that Paul looked done with the day before it even started.

"Hey George, what's wrong with your guitar?" Richard asked, sniffling, in the meanwhile he made conversation with the youngest as the cute couple had began to argue quietly, Paul's been a bit irritated with John more than usual. Seems obvious nowadays, but at the same time it didn't in a way. If anything, John was just fucking up more and more without even noticing. Everything was becoming weird between them lately, and it was kind of hard to watch the deterioration happen.

George had cut his ruthlessly venomous glare at Richard, his brown orbs glistening with pure rage. "John's stupid ass fell on top of it. You seen it, did you not?" He questioned, raising a brow at him, and gripping his guitar even more.

Flustering from the harsh tone, Richard threw his defensive hands up again. "I went to the bathroom, I didn't see it. I heard it, but I didn't see it."

"And you broke Geo's guitar. The last thing you need to worry about is me, go and fix it." Paul sharply ordered, placing another grape, and also the last one in his mouth, as well as using his other hand to smack at John's hand that had made its way into his lap somehow. "Now go."

"I don't understand what your problem is nowadays. How is it my fault that I fell? Gravity exists Paul." John clicked his tongue, placing his hand back on Paul's lap anyway.

Aggressively jerking his boyfriend's hand away from him, Paul scoffed. "Okay, be a smart ass then, see where that gets you."

"Says the actual smart ass." Paul's eyebrows had raised, looking as if he was challenged to go fencing. "Tell me what your issue is, really, because I'm not dealing with this fucking attitude today." John had continued, his patience thinning fast.

"My attitude?"

"And here _they_ fucking go." George grumbled, not sounding angry but more so concerned with a much more lowered voice, staring over unreadably at Paul and John. "They've been doing this for weeks now. Since Halloween."

"Yeah, it's kind of weird." Richard replied, tapping his drumsticks together awkwardly. "Brian, Mal, or someone please come in before it gets worse."

"If they fight, they fight. Personally, I think they should just call it quits."

Wow.

"Yes your fucking attitude, what's the problem Paul? Why are you mad at me now?" John asked roughly, his large hand back on Paul's lap now, his grip was tight to keep the younger's attention on him. "Is it the princess shit? If so, you really have to grow up Paul. It doesn't mean shit." He said, in a lowered voice as if he was scolding an actual child.

"Firstly, I was already upset that you broke Geo's guitar and I'm getting more annoyed that you're refusing to take up for your actions and help fix it." Paul said, a monotone sounding voice as he put his hand on John's to ease it off of his lap again with a more firm grip, narrowing his piercing eyes at him as he continued. "Secondly, we've talked about the princess shit since we were teens and how I feel about anyone calling me that. So not only do you disregard how you hurt George's feelings, you've also made it clear that you don't give a fuck about mine either."

"Paul, fuck, it's not even that serious. George can buy another guitar. It's not like we're eating scraps again for breakfast." John spat, rudely motioning his hand at the youngest Beatle that was clutching his dead guitar like it was a newborn. "Like I said, grow up from the princess thing. As you said, we've talked about it as teens, it should not be getting to you as it is right now."

"Right, okay then. We're done here." Paul said after a few seconds, scooting to the edge of the speaker so that he could get down, much to his annoyance John had helped him down carefully, hands on his waist to hold him close enough. Until Paul swiped John's hands away, and turned to walk over towards George who recollect this gaze elsewhere so that he wouldn't have to witness the hurt/angry look in Paul's eyes. "Give me your guitar, I'll try to fix it for you."

"Paul, I'm not done talking to you." John said, shoving his hands in his pockets, frown written all owe this face as he glared at his boyfriend's backside. "Paul." He repeated his name in a firmer voice, a bit louder since it was obvious that he was being ignored.

"Sorry that he fell on it. I don't know what the hell is wrong with him." Paul said, continuing to ignore John and went over to a chair by the mics, taking a seat before looking at Richard. "Where's the glue gun Rings, or is there some type of flex tape?"

George casually handed his guitar over to Paul as if he was a child with a broken fire truck, some type of small pout on his face as he watched the older examine it crucially. "I don't think we can fix it. The whole string line is fucked up, it's bloody butchered." The youngest had said, both of them clearly ignoring John's repeated callings, to Richard it seemed as if it were the pettiest things the two of them could ever do.

"Paul! I said I'm not done, now get the hell over here."

Before Richard could finally open his mouth to answer the question with an innocent 'oh we don't have any at the moment' that could have possibly lighten the mood, Paul was already turnt in his chair to face John, hissing back a genuinely frustrated: "Well I'm done talking about it, John. Leave me the fuck alone."

"No. Come here, now." John ordered, clenched teeth and flaring eyes that would put fear in anyone.

"And what if I don't? Then what? Are you going to come over here and drag me over to you?" Paul asked, a sharp challenge in his voice that could have been interpreted as masochistically sexual or just plain fucking crazy, especially when directed towards the hothead of John Lennon.

"Guys, stop, come on, let's calm down." Richard had said, sensing that things were going to get ugly if they didn't step in soon enough. "John, go and sit down somewhere."

George remained silent though - in the conversation however, in his own space he was humming to balance the agitation he was feeling towards John and the consistent tune in his head that he knew he couldn't do anything with, nonchalantly pulling a wrack basket of tools somewhat towards him to search for some tape or glue.

'Well, where's the fucking _help_?' Richard came to question to himself.

Paul tapped his fingers against the guitar, waiting and not paying a seething John any mind, even though he was still getting his name called. It was until John had became fed up, spitting out: "Fine, be a cunt then." Before turning around to make his way towards his own guitar. Richard and George's mouth popped open simultaneously in shock, that was something that they hadn't heard coming from John towards Paul before. Paul parted his lips to intake some type of breath, looking as if he was going to say something too malevolent for John to handle verbally, but just as quickly as he parted his lips - he closed them into a firm line.

Immediately regretting what he said when Paul got deathly silent all of a sudden, the room had deposited a wave of actual awkwardness that you could touch. Richard scratched at his nose, and George made a strangled noise as if he was going to combust from all that unfolded.

John was definitely down bad.

Right on cue, Mal Evans, George Martin, and Brian had both marched inside of the recording room. The tension in the room must have whiplashed the shit out of Brian because the soft smile on his face had incredulously faded away as soon as he stepped foot into the room, "Everything okay in here?" He questioned, brows furrowing together as his eyes bounded across the four frozen gentlemen in the room.

Silence.

Then, "My guitar's broken. John fucking fell on it."

Brian blinked over at John for a bit, watching as he tuned his guitar distractedly, then he was exchanging looks with Martin and Evans, waving them off dismissively. As George went into the booth, Mal looked over at the back of Paul's head, letting his eyes linger for a bit before moving to the corner of the room where his spot usually is. Brian had turned his attention back on George. "Well, I can get someone to fix that for you. Or I could just replace it."

'That's what I was trying to say.' John had exhaustedly thought through the piling voices of guilt running through his head. Combing his fingers against his hair insides curdling with guilt, he sighed and began walking over towards Paul while Brian began to converse with George about the injured guitar. "Paul, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you that, I fucked up, okay? I'll make it up to you later. I promise." He apologized, placing a warm hand on the younger's shoulder, noticing how tense he had seemed. Paul only hummed, tuning the broken guitar distractedly while John leaned into kiss at his temple. "Right, now let's get it together."

Mal watched the two from afar, noticing how indefinitely deadpanned Paul had looked right now. Whatever John did now must have been careless. Paul looked as if he wanted to rip out the older man's esophagus at the moment, from the tight grip on the neck of the guitar he was holding, and the clench of his jaw. The patience had seemed thin, thinner than paper. Hopefully the recording process would go smoothly.

"In the meantime, let's just use the guitar on the Mac. So George go in there with Martin, and he'll show you what to do. Let's get a demo in at least." Brian had gently ordered him, smiling fatherly at George who grunted and sauntered sadly into the booth with George Martin, ready to go and be modern with it. "I'll call someone for your guitar."

Paul looked up from the guitar for the first time in awhile, capturing John's attention when he beamed at the tall man in the corner: "Hi Mal."

Mal stiffened again, a blush, and a delightful shiver running through him when he met Paul's lovely eyes that held a gaze that wasn't usually optimistic as it should be. "Hey, Paul." The man replied, a bit quiet and detached since John was staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Setting George's guitar down after a few seconds, his smile fading when he noticed John's presence next to him, Paul stood up from the chair and was beginning to make a beeline for the door until John had grasped at his arm. "Where are you going? Stop ignoring me."

"Don't touch me." Paul had grittily replied, snatching his arm away from the older as he continued to make his way towards the doubled doors, trying to make his exit so he could get a smoke in and ignore all that has happened the last couple of minutes. Including John. Brian gaped at the way John let Paul basically slam the doors in his face, both literally and metaphorically. Mal was at odds. George Harrison and George Martin looked at each other for a quick second until the younger George shrugged his shoulders and went back to doing guitar mechanics on the Mac computer.

"Oh for fucksakes." John muttered under his breath, frustration brewing as he reached to grab at both his and Paul's jacket. "I'm sorry guys, just go on and do whatever you have to do. I'll go and get him." He said before anyone could think twice about butting in on whatever was happening, departing from the studio as well, shouting Paul's name furiously down the corridors, loud enough for anyone in a ten mile radius to hear.

Mal wanted to steer clear from whatever was going on there.

It only seemed to grow worse form that point on. John and Paul never came back to the studio after that, there's no telling if that was a good or a bad thing. The days that had flown by was more easier than he would have thought it would be after that. As Brian promised, there was only a demo that had to be done before they made a move to create another EP at the very least. It was a big stalling happening in the middle of the process since John and Paul weren't exactly present around these times. John came along more than Paul did, which was strange since he was often forgetful. So when Richard called him out on it, he only replied with a somber sounding. "It's not like I have anything else to do other than come early." Which was something George had childishly laughed at until his face was red.

John didn't get it for a minute until Richard had hinted the phrase again, there was a smile that came, but there wasn't a laugh to follow up with it, much more sadness though. Mal noticed that he seemed down, but John was a man that always went through phases of being distraught and upset for a week or two. What made it complex is that Paul would pour over him like a mother, try his best to keep a small smile on his boyfriend's face, but who the hell knew where Paul was at right now. Mal misses him, a lot, in more ways than one. He really hoped, craved, that they could have a one on one talk with each other like they'd occasionally get the chance to do.

At the airport by the lounge area where they were selling breakfasts and snacks that had to be left out overnight from the scuffles that happened behind the cashier counter, Mal sat at one of the tables nearby it. when he began looking at the list of their schedule, everything seemed smooth. Easy to operate with not much obstacles since fans had the police on their tail, besides everything is already warned by them on social media - hopefully things won't be too cluster fucked. He really hated having to thrash teenagers and aggressively seize them away from the boys just because they can't keep their hands off of them, letting their hormones derive them from public/human decency. Waiting for their flight, Mal noted that Paul was actually, physically here. Well dressed, and looking firm faced as he never was.

Maybe he was tired, after all the flight leads them into another sleepless rabbit hole where there was a photoshoot they had to attend to individually. Hopefully nothing would trend on twitter about this. Ah twitter, where Beatle fans lay dormant, and ready to jump at anything they witness in the slightest inconvenience when it comes to the group.

Speaking of tired, Paul came up to him, clutching onto two cups of coffee as he took a seat across from the older man. Wordlessly, he slid Mal's perfectly made cappuccino to him, there was no telling how the hell Paul knows what he orders but fuck it. "Thank you." Mal softly said, his heart speeding up when the younger nodded, looking elsewhere in a quiet daze. Fuck. Why does he always have to look so handsome? Naturally half lidded eyes, long eyelashes that made Mal topple over when he first seen them, and small - pouty lips that he just wanted to kiss so bad. Dressed in a classy suit as everyone else, but with a black double breasted coat that made him look even more majestic than he already presented himself like.

Still, he looked lost in the world and cranky.

"You're wondering what's wrong with me, isn't that right?"

Mal's lips parted in genuine surprise, and then he squinted at Paul unsurely, as if he wasn't a human anymore. "How'd you know?"

"Your eyes tell. It's obvious." Paul bluntly replied, scratching at his own cheek, and furrowing his eyebrows as if he just remembered something and then his expression grew even more distraught. "I don't think John cares about me anymore, honestly. Then he gets mad when I get mad at him about it. Like it's my problem that he's being a fucking dick."

Mal nodded his head to let the younger know he was listening, taking a sip of his cappuccino and letting the taste wash over his tongue and relax his tastebuds, fulfilling the draining battery inside of him and regaining his energy. Removing the coffee from his lips, he licked them and situated his gaze onto properly onto Paul again after relishing in the creamy taste of fucking caffeine. "Is that why you've been in the down under?"

Paul nodded his head slowly, right after he began to scrunch his face up in disgust at the realization that John had made him gracefully upset over the past few days. "He makes me sick."

"Oh." Mal's stomach had significantly dropped, and the used-to-be sweetened taste of his coffee became ridiculously bitter with dread. "Are you two breaking up? I hope not. Hopefully you guys can settle whatever it is out."

Paul hummed raised his cup up to his lips, swallowing, Mal watched with a blush as his throat moved whilst he swallowed down the hot liquid. Moving the cup away, there was a hint of Paul's pink tongue darting out and fuck - _please, don't lick your lips, please don't lick your lips, please don't lick your_ \- the younger man ran his tongue along his lips, before sighing. "I don't want to break up with him. I love him, a lot. It's just that - at his point I think he just fucks with me." The man finished, attractively puffing his cheeks before looking over at Mal with a nonchalant stare, totally oblivious to how he had Mal wrapped around his finger, the older squeaked when their eyes met with each other. "Do you get me?" Paul queried, raising a brow.

"Yes? Kind of. I um - wish you two well!" Mal stammered, face red when Paul just continued to stare at him, more so a soft one that he usually had on when he was zoning out. Mal wanted to kiss him. Or he wanted Paul to kiss him. Probably better.

"You're adorable Mal." Paul snorted, taking his cup of coffee as he began to stand up, some type of smirk on his face while he made his way back to the group of men in the middle of the lobby. Mainly to George to help tune his newly bought guitar, basically shunning John who had let his eyes follow each and everyone of Paul's movements.

Mal on the other hand was glued to the table, sweating and trying his best not to make any embarrassing noises from what Paul had just told him. This ongoing crush on his mate needs to stop, he's with John, and it hasn't even been decided that Paul feels the same way about him. It was surely obvious since the man had admitted that he still love his boyfriend - a lot - but holy shit the awkwardness between them says the exact opposite nowadays.

••

"Alright. Paul, sit down on that step right there. Yes, good. Arms over your knees."

Paul did as he was told, brushing past John wordlessly to sit down on the step, a bored and annoyed look on his face. "I thought it was individual." He said, eyebrows furrowing while John made his way behind him. David made a stubborn noise, trekking over towards the two of them to pull their limbs into certain positions on top of each other, he was already warned about the issues between Lennon-McCartney by Brian and his newly equipped assistant, and to be frank - he didn't give fuck.

John frowned, and pulled Paul's backside close to his chest, resting his chin on top of the man's head without the instructions from David. "This is romantic though. Taking pictures, doing a photoshoot together and all." John explained, with not much hope that Paul would even pay him or his words any mind at all - but he did feel the younger's body briefly relax against him from the familiar embrace, shoulders becoming lax and his body slumped for a bit. David angled John's head up, slapping his palms on the man's cheeks to adjust it properly on top of Paul's head before shifting his arms so that they were hooked off of Paul's shoulders.

"It'd feel more romantic if you weren't so mean to me lately." Paul replied softly, despite the rude expression continuing to be presented, if it were a problem, David would have fixed it already along with everything else. Letting David quietly bring his legs up so that his knees were bent, he stared forward at him as if he just got his money stolen, David stared back until it became awkward, pulling the younger's arms over this knees.

John huffed in the meanwhile, rolling his eyes at the accusation, "How am I the one that's being mean? You've been ignoring me for days now and you still accuse me of that."

"Are you serious?"

"What?" John questioned, shifting his head so that he could attempt to get a look at his boyfriend's face which was riddled with disbelief. "It's true, and you know it. There's two that makes a relationship, as well as an argument that could be solved."

"Not when there's one out of the two that doesn't like to own up to their bullshit." Paul unkindly retorted, his voice firm and filtered with genuine annoyance that had been building up at the exact time he woke up in the morning, jet lagged like a bitch, and desperately yearning for some type of warmth.

"Like you? I've owned up to mine back in the studio. You're just being stubborn."

"What do I have to own up for?" Paul scoffed, and John parted his lips to spill it, but the fate of foreshadowing forced him to zip it.

Anyway - John's head was cocked back into place by David who seemed oblivious to the argument brewing, backing up and using his hands as some type of measurer, he went over to the computer where he'd remotely trigger the camera. "Alright, now stay where I put you. If any of you move then this will last for hours." He ordered, sitting down at his 'operating' chair to get the camera ready to snap some shots of them.

"John you called me a fucking cunt. My fucking feelings are hurt, it's not me being stubborn at all." Paul had said, eyes narrowing at the camera the flash intruded his pupils causing them to restrict, his mouth had shut closed so that it wouldn't disrupt the pictures being taken. It also gave John a chance to retrace his steps, having guilt plague him again and he literally hated it.

The rest of the shoot went smooth, there had to be shots where Paul and John faked smiles at each other, it lasted long enough for lunch time to conquer the remaining second half of the day. The duo was escorted out of the main shooting room by some big guy who looked like he owned a couple of snakes in his life, John had his arm draped around Paul's waist and the younger just had a pissed off look on his face while attempting to move away from him. "Are you hungry or something? You're not you when you're hungry." John ultimately asked, using that as a last ditch effort to somewhat describe Paul's somber mood.

"I am." Paul sighed, "But I'm more so upset with you."

John had exhaled and stopped his walking, yanking Paul to a sudden - abrupt stop as well, moving his hand cupping his hip to gripping his arm tightly, but not too tight so that he wouldn't hurt him. "For fucksakes Paul what do you want? What do you want me to do? Talk to me baby. I can't be trying by myself." The man questioned, voice firm and determined with getting the answer out of the other man who just stared at him as if he lost his mind.

"You're not trying at all." Paul quipped, scowling at his boyfriend, discreetly trying to twist his arm out of the grip John had him locked into in the middle of this public hallway. "Plus - I told you already. Countless times, you have a brain up there John. Get a clue and figure it out."

"I am figuring it the fuck out. You just won't listen." John spat, pulling Paul closer when he noticed that the younger was somehow slipping his grasp away, trying to escape like an endangered bunny. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I've been a dick to you. I am."

"You don't mean that. You're just saying that because you feel like it's necessary."

"What the fuck?" John's voice had launched into some type of half scream, startling the big security guy and everyone else who didn't know the context of what was going on, Paul stayed unmoved while he watched deadpanned as John lost his cool, glaring at Paul with an agitated expression on his face. "What is your fucking deal? What - okay Paul. I know what you want."

Paul hummed, eyebrows raising. "Do you?"

"Yes, you must want to get fucked." John said, not caring how Paul's jaw had collapsed, as well as the big security guy that stood patiently behind him while the two bickered. "That just has to be the reason why you're acting like a brat. It's got to be."

With his widened eyes darting over John's face, displaying the raw look of anger, Paul snatched his arm away and shoved the shit out of John, causing the older to stumble back against the wall a bit. "I'm so fucking done with you. God you make me sick." Literally, John makes him feel really sick. What with his damned sensitive stomach that ached mindlessly in nausea at the slight expense of stress, and anxiety that was usually brought on by his surroundings. Big security guy, and John had rushed to follow behind Paul while the youngster rushed the rest of the way down the corridor until it expanded into a full lobby of wealthy folks and families that weren't too moved by the Beatles, who needed their pictures taken.

Later on, Mal had to accompany the boys to some type of brunch/lunch party which was weird enough for him. Brian warned him last minute, which had driven the big man actually crazy. George stuck around Paul, and John stuck around Richard, creating some type of opposite day effect that went on between the four of them. It didn't help him that they had to split up and share limousines on their way to the building, poor Mal having to sit with Richard and John as they rambled on about Paul. Fucking beautiful, Paul. "I think he done broke up with me." John said, voice dramatically soft and his eyes flooded with sadness. "Motherfucker said I'm done with you, and I make him sick all because he's horny."

"John.. I don't think-" Richard began, but was swiftly cut off when the younger threw his hands up like a toddler and started shrieking: 'What did I do wrong?' and 'I can't lose him' you know, all of that.

"Well, I can talk to him. We're good friends." Mal said, while presenting a smile at John. The auburn haired man took the friendly smile as a threat and began to launch a tirade of denials, wanting Richard to talk to his boyfriend instead. It seemed to Mal that John knew he had some type of crush on Paul, and to be honest, he wasn't sure if that would get him fired or not.

"Wait John, maybe we can all talk at the lunch party. Paul never turns down a lunch party, especially with others. Right Mal?"

"Right."

\- Not only did Paul NOT show up, the rich people wanted to be growingly difficult as well and consistently ask for his whereabouts even though Brian politely told them that he fell ill. To be honest - he had no fucking idea what was going on with Paul's physical health at all. John was livid, Richard was bored and George had decided to stick at one spot on his phone, surprisingly to everyone; he was not hungry. That was a bit strange, a bit weird. Or so Mal thought. The old gentleman's thought it was extremely disrespectful, and they were whispering amongst each other, fogging up the wine glasses - _near fucking lunch_ \- about whether or not to confront the boys.

"John where's your boyfriend?" Brian spat out as they were escorted towards the main dining area, it was as if the architects weren't satisfied with the extra long table that expanded across the large room, dozens of chairs deployed on each side - one to the front and back. A chandelier that was so bro church it was mimicking the sun settled at the other side of the grey clouds hanging above the building the boys were inside of. To Richard the whole room they had been in about now was a whole 'what the fuck is this here for' type of setting, and it irritated him that he was being so mentally bothered by it.

"Fuck should I know? If he didn't want to come, then leave him be." John replied, squinting at his manager who only glared back at him in genuine disbelief that they were having this conversation right now. "Goddamn, get off his cock, would you?"

Mal was embarrassed, he was looking forward to talking with Paul at this event, but if Paul wanted to bail then it was exceptionally valid.

"Holy shit, he's already trending on Twitter. These old people spread the news fast, don't you think?" George announced, some type of smile on his face as he began to read some tweets aloud which only made both Mal and Brian's embarrassment grow when the staff escorting them started to laugh. "Everyone is wishing him well, there was one of them that tweeted 'paul bunny is sick? oh no, my poor babie. i hope he feels well.' Tweeted by user," He pulled the phone closer to his face, and smiled reading out. "Paul's, spelt as p-o-l-s cum slut."

Brian blushed from the vulgarness, "TMI George, TMI."

"Well, that's what it says!"

John stared at George with an unreadable expression as the young man began to laugh hysterically from the shocked faces nearby him. Moving themselves towards the main dining area, which made no sense that it was smaller than the room they just left out of, Neil had rushed towards Brian and abruptly swiped his sweating right palm down his suit jacket causing the other man to shriek. "What the hell Neil?" He questioned grappling at the back of his jacket, capturing John, George's and Richard's attention.

"Sorry." Neil breathlessly said, holding his phone out to Brian, not noticing that the caller had hung up already. "Paul's in the hotel bar - he said he doesn't want to go to lunch and he's drinking instead."

John blinked, lips parting as if he was going to say something but then he found it appropriate to not say anything at all. Paul was bringing everyone down with him at this point. George kissed his teeth in annoyance towards Neil. "You fucking snitch." He huffed, earning a soft chuckle from Richard until it awkwardly faded.

"Fill er' up now! I want some of that henny!" Said a random somebody that had to be American - just from the blatant obnoxiousness, the large table was becoming full with the rich folks, it seemed as if there was selective seats going on because there wasn't enough seats for them all to just occupy exactly together. Mal didn't seem to mind that, instead he had an idea of what he was going to do, somewhat.

"It's not even 5 o'clock, drinking hour." John murmured to himself, shaking his head as he worriedly thought about his boyfriend. "I'm going to go and get Paul."

Brian blinked, and made a move, stretching his hand out to grasp at John's shoulder for some reason. "No, you can't. Just stay here, they're already annoyed that Paul isn't here. If you leave then our presence wouldn't be half of what it should."

Mal inhaled through his nose, and exhaled out a reluctant sounding. "I'll go and get him." That made John glare over at him unfamiliarly since he never felt any ill will towards Mal until after that Halloween night, but it wasn't long until everyone was pulled in (excluding Mal, who slipped out behind the crowd) and around the table with other guests of honors. Neil looked back and forth, trying to decipher whether to go with Mal or stay with the others, but soon enough he made up his mind and rushed behind the big man, greeting him politely as they both exited out of the building.

John, seated near the right of two drunken sailors, watched as Mal left with a pinch of his thick eyebrows and a firm line of his lips which made him look like his aunt Mimi. George had immediately reached for the bunions, eyes glazed with hunger, as well as the tongue swiping in between his lips to lick them. Some random fool smacked at his hand to reach for the bread before he could, which caused him to smack it back and snatch the bread from whomever's grip. "What is this a pigsty?" He murmured, shoving the bread into his mouth. Richard who was buried in the messy crowd at the other side of the table was making a living for himself, having the blokes puff out their chests, and laugh along with his wits and eased comedy.

Brian who was blessed enough with the invisible luck to sit next to the left of John, nudged the unnerved younger boy to eat some of the appealing lunch before they had to answer some questions. "Mal and Paul will be okay, just go ahead and eat before the food gets eaten up or becomes too cold."

'Yeah, right.' John thought to himself, looking down at the plate of food, eyebrows furrowing in somewhat disgust from what he was looking at. Whoever cooked here must've been down horrendously bad. "I'm not hungry." He said, releasing his glare from the plate and meeting eyes with his manager. "How long will we be here?"

"Yeah! Mix it with that wine! Thats how you cook'em!" The same American exclaimed, clapping his hands together while hooting loudly. "Ain't that right Beatle bugs?"

"Only for an hour or two, why? Are you feeling sick?"

John hummed, and began to stand up. "I think I forgot something at the hotel. I'll be back."

Meanwhile in the limousine that was called by Neil to prevent them waiting even more, Mal with the gracious navigation of both Neil, had ended up waltzing into the exact bar Paul fucked off to. Finding the man was easy, passed out on the couch in the VIP area where there was only a couple of people paying the unconscious man any mind, his head was slotted back against the couch while some bloke and bird was touching upon his pockets - searching for a wallet or a condom, or both. Mal ventured over there while Neil manhandled both of them away from him as if they were ants at a picnic, while the bigger man was gently slapping at Paul's soft cheek, eyes skimming worriedly over his figure. 'Ah, shit.' Mal thought to himself, when he noticed that there was no hope in Paul waking up fully sober. Neil sauntered over, hands digging in his pockets as he stared deadpanned at the unconscious man.

"I can already feel that headache, and I'm not even the one that's drunk."

Mal huffed, and heaved Paul forward so that the was slumped against his shoulder. Trying his best not to sniff the soft scent of his cologne, as well as the raging smell of alcohol, Mal was blushing grossly - Neil stared at him wordlessly. "Hey, c'mon, stand up. Okay?" Mal whispered when he felt Paul twitch his arms against him, mumbling incoherent words as his eyes heavily fluttered open from the sensation of being lifted up.

"John? You've been -" Hiccup. "Lifting?"

Neil laughed, and helped Paul balance himself when he pulled away from the firm body to get a glimpse on whether if it was John or not. When Paul's eyes focused, staring numbly into Mal's which caused the older man's insides to crumple from the heavy gaze, he furrowed his eyebrows and leaned in close enough to make Mal panic. "Mal, you sly dog. Where did you come from?"

"We came to get you. you were supposed to be at the lunch party, everyone wanted to see you."

Paul looked confused, and then he didn't. Instead the expression of panic began to write itself onto his face, letting out a strangled growl that didn't manage to pass through his clenched teeth, he grappled at Mal's shirt and pulled the man down while Neil tried to gather him away from the older. "Why did you tell them I was here? Are you insane? Now John's going to come and look for me! I don't want to see him! I hate him. That fucking asshole. I hate him." Paul spat, the last statement leaving his mouth with an intent to hurt, he didn't mean it, he just felt extremely good saying it aloud - displaying the wrath of his rage to anyone that wasn't John. Neil and Mal exchanged looks while Paul was lazily shaking the big man back and forth, looking more dazed than ever with his face scrunched into an angry silent scream.

Well, this got strangely personal, even for Paul as a drunk.

"Lets take you home. You're not going to see John for the rest of the day, probably." Neil said, directing the suggestion both to Mal and Paul while he began to hint his head over towards the exit of the bar. "Mal, do you have him? I may have to get back to the boys and Brian, who knows what chaos is going on over there."

Mal blinked, becoming flustered when Paul willingly leaned his warm body against him, when Neil made no move on finding another option, Mal nodded his head. "Uh - yeah, of course."

••

Paul drunkenly stumbled into his hotel room, stubbornly refusing to let Mal walk him inside civilly. "Where the fuck is Lennon? That dick." He spat, seemingly forgetting what Mal had told him back at the bar. "I bet he thinks he's so funny." Paul hiccuped, blinking and sniffing around as if he sent something noticeable, Mal honestly wouldn't know what he was smelling. Paul was uncharacteristically plastered. God he must've been really upset with John if he went to these type of lengths.

"He's still at the lunch party Paul. I have to go and tell him that you're back at the hotel." Mal said, gently placing his palm against the younger's backside, trying to disregard how numb his cheeks felt from how much blood flowed into them. "Maybe you should just dress down and go rest up, I'll get you something to take so the hangover won't be bad."

Paul swiftly turned towards Mal, lips parted and his eyes dancing indicatively over the older's features. Fuck. "Aren't you going to stay with me?"

Oh my gosh. Mal cleared his throat, trying his best not to be locked up in the brutal evocative look in Paul's eyes. Why the actual fuck does this shit keep happening to him? Scorpions crept their way into his head, and soon enough he found himself nodding submissively. "Yeah, sure. I guess. I can just text him."

Paul had blinked absently after a couple of seconds, his eyes almost crossing. "Text who?"

Mal waved his hand over the man's face, trying to bring him back to earth for the third time that afternoon. "John Lennon." He answered, trying not to giggle when Paul's gorgeous lips shaped into a soft 'O' in realization. Then he got adorably angry at the thought of John and began swinging his fist into the air, cursing out his name, then fake crying while Mal had to ease him towards the bed. Paul sat down, crossed his legs and bowed his head dramatically, all Mal could do was watch him observantly.

"Fuck him." Paul randomly cried out, the fake tears suddenly becoming real. Mal's jaw had dropped, and quickly he swiped at Paul's wet cheeks while the man squirmed in the bed from drunken frustration, rage and all the above. "He's so fucking mean. I don't get it. He's been a dick to me since Halloween."

Seems like Halloween was the holiday for the ghouls.

Mal hesitated, but he began anyways, "Maybe it's because —" Soon enough he was cut off when Paul's hand slapped upon his mouth.

"Shh, don't let em' know." Paul murmured, suddenly sobered up a bit. The man was recklessly referring to the fourth wall, even though it was endangered at that very second. "Anyway, we don't talk about that."

Mal just knelt down in front of him and grasped at Paul's dainty hand which had been covering his mouth still, but Paul decided to have the audacity in the midst of his drunkenness to attempt to stick his fingers into his mouth. Cupping the soft hand in his larger one causing the smaller man to look up at him cluelessly, Mal failingly attempted to retract his gaze but Paul's stare was strong. The older eventually cleared his throat. "You um tried to stick your fingers in my mouth."

"Sowwy." Paul pouted, fluttering his lashes and it took all of Mal's self control to not kiss him.

Ha - too bad for that. Soon enough their lips were mashed together, Paul being uncoordinated and surprised when Mal basically had him trapped against the bed. His eyes were widened, but still glazed with upright intoxication, still he was sobered a bit to have his hands clutch weakly at the large shoulders. Mal took all he could get from the kiss, his tongue ravishing the inside of Paul's mouth which had saliva bead allusively at the corner of the younger's mouth. The taste of the sweet breakfast Paul had ate earlier in the morning and the addicting taste of alcohol buzzed on Mal's tongue, he couldn't help himself when the kisses ended up trailing to Paul's neck.

Body planted on top of the smaller, pliant one, legs placed on either side of Paul's waist as he marked up his neck hungrily. The younger released gracious sounds of breathless sighs, finding himself withering and twisting underneath the warmth of Mal's body when the older began to unbutton his shirt. "Mal," Paul moaned in pleasure, eyes blinking opened when he realized they were closed to see the door to the hotel part open and John enter the room with a look of genuine shock.

Oh, shit.

Already knowing that he was too small to beat the shit out of Mal, he began removing the sharp heeled Beatle boot quietly, John winged his arm all the way back and literally fucking launched the shoe to the targeted rib cage of Mal's side with all the strength in his body. The toss was so aggressive, and flooded with pure rage, it made Mal crumble immediately once impact had been made against his ribs. What came afterwards was a roar that was so inhumane, it scared a little part of John his damn self. "What the FUCK is going on here? Paul! Get the fuck up! Now!" He ordered, one sock foot out and one booted foot ready to be launched towards his boyfriend without any hesitation if he ever thought to put up a fight.

Mal wheezed, clutching as his possibly-fractured-rib cage. "John! Wait! It's my fault!"

Paul was still downright lost in his cloud of drunk, but he was sober enough to feel the tingle of his neck and the aura of inconsolable rage by the doorway of his room. "Oh it's John, _hi John_." He meant to say to himself, but it was aloud and a bit ignorant to the situation that was unfolding in front of his raging boyfriend's eyes.

Soon enough he felt his arm being grabbed roughly, almost being torn out of his socket and he was flung off of the bed, suddenly rammed against the wall. The blow to his backside, and the back of his head caused all the intoxication to be knocked out of him, coming down insanely from the high. It was too late because John was already on his case. "Who the fuck do you think I am, huh? You think you can play with me Paul? Do you know who the fuck I am?" The man was crazed with anger, the rhetorical questions coming out each and every time he slammed Paul's stunned body against the wall. "Going around and doing this shit, _again_ , behind my fucking back? Like I won't lose my shit?"

Paul, suddenly nauseous, and trembling because too much was happening at once, only panted with real tears pouring down his cheeks again. "What? Stop! You're hurting me John! Stop it!"

"You think I give a fuck? You're hurting me right now, for weeks! You don't care!" John yelled in his face, but he was subtly loosening his grip anyways since he could feel Paul's body tremble from the pain. The last thing he wanted to do was physically hurt Paul, but his rage was blind.

"Let me go!" Paul hissed, eyes closing tightly pretty sure he was bleeding from the grip on his arm, especially the way John was digging his nails harshly into his skin.

"No. You're going into my room." John said something related to realization in his voice when he smelt the scent of alcohol from the younger man, his voice was attractively hoarse from yelling and Mal just gaped at them, not even believing what he was seeing. This had to be the peak of all the built up aggression between the two, it had to be.

"No! You're being mean to me, and I want to stay with Mal." Paul whined, some truth in that statement even though he was oblivious to how genuinely enraged John was. The older of the two inhaled sharply and literally lifted Paul up over his shoulder, it caused the younger to shriek and pound his fists down onto John's back when he realized he was being forcefully carried out of his hotel room.

Mal panicked, and took this as the signal to move basically chasing after the duo, yelling over Paul who was still screaming for John to put him down. "John wait! Put him down! He's really drunk, and—" The man was cut off when John violently turned around, his eyes flaring with a murderous look at he glared at the big man.

"Drunk? He's drunk? _Again_?" John's eyes were bulged, and it was as if they were going to roll out of his head for a mere second. This was the most shocked Mal had ever seen him, anyone actually. "You was going to — while he was —" John exhaled shakily, fucking flabbergasted and that was when Mal noticed he was in bubbling hot fucking water. When the heinous realization dawned on both of them, John suddenly felt annoyed at himself for taking everything out on Paul, even though he was still pissed that the younger just bailed on them, he hissed at Mal a venomous: "You are such a disgusting fucking pig. Stay the hell away from him."

Mal's mouth went dry like the Sahara, and soon enough the hotel door closed harshly into his face, all he heard was the muffled sounds of Paul screaming at John to put him down. Then there was the sounds of John screaming back at him, soon enough there was a screaming match across the hall. For some reason they vocalized at the some parts, it's like music always crept up on them, even at the most out of pocket times. Mal panicked, not knowing what to do with himself. Not knowing whether he still had a job. Fucking hell, everything was happening too fast.

Then everything was happening too slow. Everyone got up wordlessly the next morning, there was no doubt that word got out about the shit that had went down back at the hotels. John was pretty vocal about it when they all had met up in the main lobby, their bags were packed since they were about to go on a flight little ways after a press conference. Paul stuck by George and John of course, he looked ill, pale and tired. Just like the other days, but less angry. Richard was around Brian, taking tabs from him and the updates of what they were going to do today. Mal felt like an outcast. God, he just wanted to talk to John, to everyone actually, and clear his fucking name. Too bad for him though, the climax had already happened.

There was at least three hours of free time for him, so he took advantage of that and went to go call Dr.Vincent's for some therapeutic help.

"I fucked up."

Vincent had firmly tapped his pencil against his lap instead of the worthy notebook, wondering what his barbaric children were up to at the moment. He hoped this line at McDonald's hurried up. He couldn't take the thought of his children possibly getting him into another lawsuit. "Seriously?" He absently asked, eye twitching uneasily, father senses washing over him. "What did you fuck up Mal?" Then there was a dark thought, 'My life. Oh goodness Vin, where did that come from?' Vincent stifled a snicker.

"I kissed him, and did a bit more. Then his boyfriend caught us and now I think I have a broken rib and heart." Mal had told him, clutching at his side as he stared down at his shoes reluctantly. Hopefully nobody was listening in on him, like John, please don't be John. He was in the men's room anyway, and the last time he seen John the man was cupping Paul's cheek, telling him something that he couldn't hear. However, he did see Paul nod his head at whatever the words were and smile tiredly at John before going back to looking like a corpse.

Good thing is, they must've patched things up? Or maybe John told him a joke. Probably neither, the smile seemed sort of sarcastic. Paul looked exhausted though, the hangover and headache probably getting to him. Plus all of the times John had thrusted him against the wall in pure rage as if he was a rag doll. Mal couldn't swallow down that his self control was going to have him take Paul, who was barely sober on the bed, and fuck - he deserved everything John had coming for him. Paul was drunk, he didn't know what he was doing and what if he went too ahead of himself, John not being there to stop whatever was happening. Mal felt bad for him. Almost getting violated, and then having to get harassed by John's unapologetic rage at the same moment.

"You're a mess."

"Excuse me?"

Vincent cleared his throat, "I mean, what a mess."

Mal sighed, leant his side against the bathroom wall, not even knowing how gross it was. "I know, I don't know what's going to happen to me in the future." He said, squirming at the thought of not being able to see Paul again after this.

"Well, I'm sure you're going to be fine, and if you are going to lose your job then lose it with pride." Vincent said distractedly, moving up in the line when the car in front of him budged a bit. Whisking the list of orders he wrote down after asking his grumpy wife, and chaotic children what they wanted, he skimmed over the orders for a brief second.

"That doesn't make any sense! How am I going to lose a job with pride?" Mal asked, confusion settling in while Vincent's eye twitched again in irritation, "I'm sorry doctor Vin, but that confuses me."

"To be real with you Mal, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

\- Embarrassment washed over Mal when he had to coincidently share a car with the band, and the traffic was too much of a cluster fuck for them to escape it. Paul was on his phone, tweeting something about his health so he could get the fans to stop trending 'the flu is over party' and 'fuck the flu in the ass Paul' for the second consecutive day. There was two hashtags trended before the two inappropriate ones over the last twenty-four, one was just a simple 'get well Paul' but unfortunately the fans drifted from that wholesome project. Holding the camera up, he faked a smile and addressed everyone with a proper tone even though his voice was raspy from the screaming match he got into last night. "Hello. I'm doing okay, to anyone who's worried. Just suffering a bad headache right now, I missed you all." He was briefly interjected by George waving his hand into the camera to say hi to the fans, this made Richard collectively grapple at the phone as to make it look like they were all waving. "Stop!" Paul playfully shrieked.

When he eventually posted the video message, Mal slumped farther into the corner of his seat near the window. George had huffed, "Should've went live. They might think it's prerecorded."

"I can't talk much." Paul replied, stealing a glance from John. "Unfortunately."

John scrunched his nose up, his stomach churning. "All of that could've been avoided if you stayed with us."

Mal clenched his jaw, busied himself by playing with his fingers.

"You were being an ass so I had a drink. At least Mal took care of me." Paul had bluntly said, it was as if he didn't care of the consequences that came from that sentence, he was just suddenly spinning the elephant in the room around on earth's literal fucking axis. Then - "Isn't that right, Mal?"

What the fuck, Paul?

George looked genuinely aghast and Richard just clamped his mouth shut. John looked livid, and Paul was trying not to smile from how messy everything was. Soon enough the temptation to smile faded when John spoken up, "You don't want this Paul. Don't make me hurt you." He threatened, catching everyone's attention, including the drivers amusement to the whole situation that he barely knew about.

Paul grumbled with a pout as if this wasn't a serious issue, "You put your hands on me already, you know my back and neck still hurts."

George slapped John's arm, glaring at him. "You hit Paul? What the fuck?" He growled out, now having a somewhat of a valid reason to barge in on the already problematic issue that was happening. "Listen, I don't know what the hell he did. But you're not going to hit my best friend John. Have you lost your mind?" The youngest in the car had scowled, protectiveness washing over him at the thought of something truly physical unfolding between his friends.

"I didn't hit him." John stated, which was true to a certain extent. "Paul tell him what happened."

"No," Mal spoke up, his voice shaking from the uneasiness that locked him into a mental closet. "I kissed Paul while he was drunk, and John saw it. To be honest, none of this is his fault, it's mine." There was a brief silence. George thought this was some type of part 2 of Halloween.

"Damn skippy." John spat, glaring at Mal. "You were going to-"

"John, just leave him alone." Paul had said, voice softening but the firm annoyance was still there, he was kissing his teeth and growing more irritated the longer this subject was suspended into the car. George was as lost as a seven year old child, and Richard was too busy feeling sick to figure out what the hell was happening. John was eyeing him.

"Be truthful Paul," John began. "Are you cheating on me?"

Oh for fuck sake.

Paul, without any hesitation, denied the outrageous accusation that seemed scarily fitting. "No, I am not fucking cheating on you. Get a damn grip on yourself." He spat, feeling offended but the way he was talking only made John's suspicions grow even worse.

"Nah, you are. It's okay. It's fine."

Paul was now flailing, his voice risen in high pitch cries, protesting his innocence. George was insanely uncomfortable. Richard was gaping at them in absolute disbelief, he wanted to say something but he had no clue on what was appropriate to try and tell them. "I didn't cheat! What are you even talking about? I would never cheat on you!" He exclaimed, trying his best to keep his control secured, and the tears from streaking down his cheeks when John had just blatantly ignored him. "Johnny, I really didn't. How could you say that?"

Mal cleared his throat, "John there was no cheating involved. I was the one to make a move on him, and he was drunk, I'm sure he would have thrown me off if he was sober."

"Hm," John hummed, crossing his arms and staring at his lap in deep thought while Paul was near tears next to him, grasping at his arm and squeezing it, desperate for John to fucking listen. George made a move, unbuckling his seatbelt, shifting from the seat across them to squeeze in next to Paul for an attempt to calm him own. Unfortunately, this had drone out to when they got to the airport, Paul was basically pulling at John's arm to get him to listen. The older man didn't budge though, continuously snatching his arm away from Paul as he boarded the plane, causing the younger to tearfully chase after him. 

All in all, Mal felt sick.

\- A couple of days later in hot ass fucking Florida, at one of the beach houses by the shore that Brian had his undercover goons rent out for the brief living environments for the band, Paul attacked John as soon as the man exited the bathroom. "John!" He quickly shouted, causing the older to tense up and jolt back from the real life jump scare. After a couple of seconds, there was a whisper: "Jesus." John managed, closing his eyes to quickly settle the adrenaline coursing through him when Paul had popped out of nowhere to greet him. Afterwards, he opened them and glared at the younger man with a strangely angered look in his eyes, "Leave me alone. Would you?" 

"Can you just listen to me? I didn't cheat on you John." Paul stated, furrowing his eyebrows, staring into the cold brown eyes of his boyfriend. "I would never do such a thing."

"Get the fuck out of my face." 

Paul got teary eyed again, feeling insanely upset at everything that was going against him right now. Even though he won't admit it, but he was scared that John was going to break it off because of this bullshit. "Are you seriously doing this? John, I don't -" 

"Seriously doing what? Being rightfully upset?" John asked, his gaze incredulous. 

"If you'd listen to me, then you'd realize that the accusation is bogus as fuck." Paul retorted, a cute scowl on his face as his voice began to tremble. "You're not even letting me talk to you!" 

"Two. Times. Paul, this shit with Mal has happened two fucking times. Maybe you didn't cheat, but goddamn, what the hell is going on here? How should I know anymore?" 

Paul couldn't help it anymore, couldn't hold the crying back, especially when John was talking in the 'I'm too hurt to be mad at this point' type of voice, filtered with pain, and fuck hot tears were rolling unashamedly down his cheeks. Hazel eyes glistening with regret as he began to pant out panic breaths, "I- I didn't.. we- none of it means anything John. Please. I don't have any feelings for him, _I love you_ , please."

"Do you really want to know why I've been such a bitch to you since that Halloween party?" The older took a step closer, his voice coated with irritation. "It's because you act as if everything is fine after I had to walk in on Mal having the time of his life all over you. Then your stupid ass being too drunk or too high to know what the fuck is going on." John spat, looking at the younger in disgust. "Is it wrong for me to have a feeling that some foul play is going on here?"

" _John_ ," Paul began, his voice crackling with angst. 

"Then you prance around and treat me like I'm the fucking instigator and have everyone else coming for me. _Oh John's being mean to me, oh he's an asshole, he put his hands on me_ \- all this and all fucking that. You ignore me for days, and start mouthing at me like I was the one in the wrong." John continued, letting all of his emotions pour out. "And maybe I was a cunt at times, but you never decided to come talk to me about how I felt about everything since Halloween."

Paul felt nauseous with guilt. He felt like such an asshole. Thinking back at that their argument at the photoshoot, the words they shared, this whole time he was the one giving John a hard time. Trying to pin the blame on him. Yes, he was hurt by the words shared before that, but now as realization dawned on him - John was just as hurt as he was. 

Both of them scorned each other, and son of a bitch, it stung so bad. Paul never really thought back to Halloween, John told him that him and Mal were snogging, fucking describing how Mal had his hands in his damn pants - but all he retorted back is: "Oh? I don't remember that." Then the pretty fucker had the audacity to continue being around Mal, somewhat knowing to an extent how the big man has feelings for him. 

Most of all, he never really talked with John about it, Paul remembered John being shaken up by it but all he did was give the older man a kiss of reassurance and an apologetic blowjob - some shit like that. He totally disregarded John's feelings to a point where his feelings were beginning to bubble up into weeks of mistreatment directed towards Paul to fulfill the hurt in his heart. 

All in all, it was a common case of communication issues. 

Bad fucking communication issues that made everything spillover for the second time, and this time John made sure his feelings towards the situation was clear. 

Ugh. Paul felt even more nauseous at the fact that he was openly saying 'Mal took care of me' and 'I want to stay with Mal' whilst John was dealing with some internal trauma. Him telling Mal that John was being mean, making him sick, and flat out dragging his name through the fucking mud. Bloody hell. What was wrong with him? 

"So what if you didn't cheat on me. It's clear enough that you don't care about me, and that hurts even more." John flatly said, pushing past Paul who was still crying each and every time a realization struck him. 

Paul gasped, reaching out for him, and basically hugging onto his backside which made John halt in his step. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry baby. _I'm sorry._ I'm sorry." He pleaded in a brief moment of panic, "I really am, please, I love you so much. You're right, I'm a cunt. I'm a bitch. I'm everything in the book."

"Yeah, alright." John snorted, grasping at Paul's arms to try and pull them off of him. Although he seemed unmoved, his mind was racing when the pleas from Paul became more and more desperate by the second, the younger was actually balling. Good shit. Then again, he hated seeing or hearing Paul cry, he defintely hated arguing with Paul. Bad shit. However, he wants to get away from him as soon as possible before he does something stupid because the rage was talking more than his usual calmness when it came to his boyfriend. "Let me go Paul." 

Paul reluctantly released John, and wiped at his eyes while the older exhaled, beginning to walk away from him to go directly into his bedroom so he could lash out at the poor unknowing pillow. While Paul was trying to gather himself, Richard cleared his throat awkwardly which had made the younger swiftly look over at him. "Are you um.. going to use this?" The blue eyed man asked, rapping his knuckles against the bathroom door.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah that’s how it ends!! fill in if u want


End file.
